


I caress it, because I possess it

by Angel_Wings14



Series: Stingy Fingers [1]
Category: LazyTown, Salad Fingers
Genre: (but also cakes), (children) - Freeform, Age Difference, Baking, Blood, Crack Treated Seriously, Fanart, Fluff and Angst, I'm Going to Hell, I'm Sorry, M/M, Quarantine has made us insane, Slow Burn, What Have I Done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:00:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27182804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angel_Wings14/pseuds/Angel_Wings14
Summary: Salad Fingers is new to Lazy Town. He has made many new friends, but none have caught his attention quite like the boy in yellow. Will Stingy and Salad Fingers be able to bring each other happiness, or will Salad Fingers’ dark past catch up with him once and for all?Disclaimer: we are so sorry.Edit: Now with fanart in the second chapter!
Relationships: Robbie Rotten/Sportacus, Stingy/Salad Fingers
Series: Stingy Fingers [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1992667
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, this unholy abomination came about because we are in lockdown and have gone slightly insane. Me and my friend have been thinking about Lazy Town a lot lately, especially the Mine song, despite both being in our 20s. We also quote Salad Fingers a lot, so we decided to put them together late one night, and thus Stingy Fingers was born. Again, we’re sorry. Please enjoy.

**Part one**

“Welcome to Lazy Town,” said Sportacus.

“Th-thank you,” replied Salad Fingers. He was looking forward to making some new friends and starting afresh.

Just then, a rowdy gang of children came bustling into the town square, shouting for Sportacus. Leading them was a tall girl with bright pink hair. There was a round blonde boy with a cape, another girl with brown bunches, and another boy with his curly hair matted down with headphones. But the one that caught Salad Fingers’ attention was the boy in yellow at the back. He had a bored expression on his face, as if he were above these rabble-rousers. Salad fingers could appreciate that.

They stopped at the sight of Salad Fingers standing with their hero. He was admittedly a little odd to look at, because his fingers were made of salad, and children were cruel. It was not his fault he was so different. But the boy in yellow did not shy away from his uneven gaze.

“Hi everyone!” said Sportacus. “This is our new town member, Salad Fingers. Salad Fingers, this is Stephanie, Ziggy, Trixie, Pixel and Stingy.” Each of the children waved in turn. “Now remember! We need to be welcoming to everyone, even if at first they may seem a little strange. We all have things that make us unique, but that’s why we make such a good team!”

The children reluctantly nodded along to Sportacus’ lecture, but they still eyed Salad Fingers warily. All except Stingy, who brazenly walked up to Salad Fingers without an ounce of fear. He was holding aloft an antique spoon. The children had found it in the Mayor’s garden during their adventures that day.

“Do you want this spoon?” Stingy asked.

“W-well, I suppose, if you don’t want it,” Salad Fingers replied, licking his lips in anticipation.

“Well too bad, because it’s MINE.”

Salad Fingers felt sad at that. He really wanted to caress that spoon. Or Stingy’s perfectly coiffed locks, because they were brown and looked rusty. Before he could reach out one of his long salad fingers, Stingy turned and walked away, leaving nothing but air to touch.

“Sorry about Stingy,” Stephanie, the pink haired girl, sighed. “He’s always like that, it’s not just you.”  
“Oh-oh, that’s good,” stuttered Salad Fingers. “I didn’t want to u-upset one of my new friends.”

All of this social interaction was too much excitement for Salad Fingers. Previously he had only had three friends, Hubert Cumberdale, Marjory Stewart-Baxter and Jeremy Fisher, and he missed them all terribly. But now he has twice as many friends and it was exhausting.

“I think I’d like to lie down now,” said Salad Fingers to his new friends, and he left before any of them could reply.

**Part two**

Salad Fingers was at his new house, and had just met his new housemate Robbie Rotten, when there came a knock at the door.

“I-I’ll get it. It might be one of my new friends,” Salad Fingers said with a slow grin.

He hoisted the hatch open, and there in front of him, with the sun framing his shiny brown hair, was Stingy.

“He-hello there, young child,” greeted Salad Fingers.

“My NAME is STINGY,” Stingy replied sassily.

“O-oh, sorry,” said Salad Fingers, eyes darting furtively around as he tried to think how to make up for this social faux-pas.

“I don’t have _time_ for your apologies,” Stingy said. “I’m here to invite you to MY party.”  
He thrust out an invitation. It was covered in stickers and craft glitter, clearly made by one of the children. On the top, in boldly painted letters, were the words ‘ _Welcome Salad Fingers’._

“If you don’t have a gift,” Stingy asserted. “One will be provided for you to give to me.”  
Salad Fingers didn’t know what to say to this, so he just silently reached out for the invitation. As if in slow motion, his salad finger dragged against the side of the paper, giving him a paper cut.

“O-oh no,” said Salad Fingers, but he didn’t seem distressed at all. In fact he rather enjoyed the feeling. He watched as a single drop of blood welled up out of the cut and dripped down the length of his salad finger.

“You’ve cut yourself!” Stingy stated, alarmed.

“Y-yes,” Salad Fingers smiled. “I like when the red water comes out.”  
Stingy’s eyes widened as he backed away. When he was far enough down the path, he turned and ran.

**Part three**

The next day, Salad Fingers decided to go for a walk. His housemate had been muttering and pacing all morning, and Salad Fingers was starting to get a headache.

As he meandered down the road, he heard a motor vehicle coming up from behind him. He stopped and slowly turned to look.

It was his new friend Stingy in a yellow car.

“H-hello there, you-young Stingy,” he called out.

The car slowed to a stop, and Stingy confidently stepped out onto the pavement where Salad fingers stood.

“I-I like your car,” said Salad Fingers, pointing at the vehicle. This was unnecessary of course, because there were no other cars in the vicinity.

“Well you can’t have it because it’s MINE,” Stingy angrily replied.

“O-oh, well, can I touch it?” Salad Fingers asked, and even before he got a reply, he had already started to reach out.

“Hmm, Ok,” Stingy said. “But BE CAREFUL!”

Salad Fingers ran his salad fingers over the metal frame of the car. His eyes rolled back into his head as he shuddered at the feeling. It was no rusty spoon, but it was almost orgasmic.

“Ooooh yes,” he quavered. “I like this car, but it would be better if there was more, uh, rust.”

Stingy looked affronted at this statement.

“RUST?!” he yelled. “There would be no rust on MY car.”

Salad Fingers retreated from the car door he was caressing. He couldn’t believe he had once more upset his friend. Whatever was he going to do. But there was nothing to do, for Stingy was still ranting.

“As if _I_ would let anything of _mine_ to be in anything less than pristine condition. You could not be more wrong.”

With that, he got back into his car and drove away.

Salad Fingers was alone once more, and he felt sad that he had made his little friend angry. He didn’t know what he had done wrong.

Just as he decided that that was enough walking for one day, he once again heard the sound of a vehicle driving down the street. He looked up hopefully and his heart gave an excited flutter when he realised it was Stingy returning.

“You are right though,” Stingy called, leaning out of his window. “It is a nice car.”  
And then he was gone.

**Part four**

It was the evening of the welcome party, and Salad Fingers was outside the Mayor’s house. He approached the door slowly, because he had never been here before.

There was no doorbell, so he scraped his salad fingers down the length of the door. It let out such a lovely screeching sound that he did it again. He was interrupted doing it a third time when the door swung open, revealing the Mayor. Blinking behind him were all the children.

Stephanie skipped forward and dragged Salad Fingers inside.

“I have made a cake for the occasion,” she said, pointing at a crooked pink cake covered in sweeties. It looked delicious.

“I have brought some of my fr-friends with me,” Salad Fingers announced. He held his hand in the air, displaying three finger puppets. “This here is Hubert Cumberdale, this is Jeremy Fisher, and this,” he said with relish, “is Marjory Stewart-Baxter, and she tastes like sunshine dust.”  
Stingy turned an interesting shade of red at that last comment, eyes glinting green with jealousy. Ziggy, on the other hand, looked confused.

“How can they be your friends?” he asked. “They’re just puppets.”  
Stephanie and Sportacus exchanged a knowing glance, but said nothing.

“I-I’ve also brought my new housemate,” Salad Fingers soldiered on.

Out of the dark shadows emerged a tall figure clad in purple and fuchsia stripes.

“Robbie Rotten!” the children cried as one.

**Part five**

Once the mayor had calmed everyone down, and told everyone that Robbie was a guest and should be treated as such, the party commenced.

Robbie, for his part, had retreated back into his dark corner. Sportacus had found him there and handed him a glass of fruit punch. It was the best punch Sportacus had even given Robbie, and they shared a secret smile over their glasses.

In the opposite corner, a similar scene unfolded between Salad Fingers and Stingy. Salad Fingers had been sure to reassure Stingy that any feelings he may have had for Marjory Stewart-Baxter was all in the past. He was here to start anew.

“Good,” Stingy said. “I don’t like sharing MY friends.”  
Ziggy had overheard this conversation and bustled in, dragging Stingy away.

“You can’t be friends with Salad Fingers, he is plotting with Robbie Rotten! He must be EVIL.”

Stingy couldn’t believe his ears. He had exquisite taste and would never have chosen a friend who was evil.

“How dare you impugn what’s MINE?!” Stingy exclaimed, pushing Ziggy away and returning to Salad Fingers’ side. Ziggy slunk off back to where the other children were huddled together. They whispered furtively, but no other attempts to disrespect Salad Fingers was made that night.

Salad Fingers was happy. His new friend really seemed to like him, he even let him touch his shiny buttons. They were so shiny.

That night, he dreamt of Stingy being dunked in rust, and when he awoke he was shivering and satisfied.

**Part six**

The sun had sprung up over Lazy Town, and the children and Sportacus had gathered in the basketball court for a fun-filled game. But they had only just finished their warm ups when Ziggy turned to Stingy and said, “we can’t start playing yet, we don’t have enough sports candy for our break!”

Stingy looked behind him to see who Ziggy was talking to, but realised that he was in fact asking Stingy to go out of his way to provide snacks for the group. His jaw dropped and he spluttered in protest.

“What? ME? Why do I have to go?”  
“Come on, Stingy,” Sportacus encouraged. “We can go and get the sports candy together!”

“Yes!” Ziggy exclaimed. “Yes, you both should go!”  
He started to shoo them away from the court, a little too enthusiastically for someone who much preferred regular candy to sports candy. Stingy frowned, but could not resist being swept along as the other children joined in ushering him and Sportacus towards the town centre.

Stingy and Sportacus were quick to collect some apples from Sportacus’ zeppelin, both carrying a large armful each. Stingy’s pile went all the way up into his face, making it hard to see the rock that was strewn carelessly in the path in front of him.

He tripped with a cry, apples flying in all directions. Sportacus dropped his apples too in his haste to get over to Stingy. It was clear to Sportacus that Stingy needed immediate help, as his knee was scrapped terribly and bleeding a lot.

But where could they go? They were right on the edge of town and the only house in sight was that of Robbie Rotten. Seeing no other alternative, Sportacus scooped Stingy up in his arms and sprinted to the hatch that acted as the front door to Robbie Rotten’s not-so-secret hideout.

After a few tense minutes, the hatch swung open to reveal Robbie Rotten. He was clearly not expecting visitors, for he was only wearing a pink bathrobe and his hair was hidden underneath a matching towel. His face crumpled up at the sight before him, but immediately stepped back to welcome Sportacus in.

In the main room, Robbie Rotten fussed around brushing crumbs off of his fluffy orange chair to make way for the invalid. Salad Fingers emerged from his room at the commotion. His eyes locked onto Stingy as he was lowered into the armchair. He couldn’t look away.

“…” Salad Fingers breathed.

The blood was so red. It reflected in Salad Fingers’ eyes as they lit up with unholy glee.

He leaned in, tongue extending. It wiggled before him. He could taste the red water in the air, like rust and a scent that was uniquely Stingy. However, before he could make contact, Sportacus returned with bandages and quickly covered the injury.

Salad Fingers took a moment to mourn the loss of such a beautiful sight, but quickly recovered when he heard Stingy whimper.

“It hurts,” Stingy whined, tears leaking from his eyes unbidden. Robbie Rotten was uncomfortable at the sight of a child crying, especially if he had nothing to do with it, and hustled himself from the room with only a simple brush of his hand against Sportacus’ lower back to signal his departure.

“Maybe it will help to take your mind off of it?” Sportacus suggested, with no outward reaction to Robbie’s hasty retreat.

“I-I know a song,” Salad Fingers offered. At Stingy’s weak nod he started to sing. “Somewhere, over the rainbow, way up high…”  
  


By the time Stingy had recovered enough to walk, it was starting to get late. Sportacus had to run some more errands back on his Zeppelin, so Salad Fingers offered to walk Stingy home.

As they walked side-by-side, Stingy’s hand wrapped around Salad Fingers’ arm for support. Stingy felt grateful for his new friend.

“I just want to say,” he started. “That song you sang really made me feel a lot better. It’s now MINE.”  
Salad Fingers just smiled, for he knew that was how Stingy showed he cared too.

**Part seven**

Once Stingy and Sportacus disappeared from their view, the children all hurried over to Pixel’s treehouse. Pixel quickly logged on to his computer, with Trixie hanging her head over the back of his chair to get a closer look.

He quickly dug into his search, delving deep into the shadiest parts of the internet in order to find any information he could on Lazy Town’s newest resident. His fingers flew across the keyboard at breakneck speeds, and soon his efforts came to fruition.

Pixel gasped as he stared wide-eyed at the screen. The other children gathered close and, for a moment, they were frozen still in abject horror at what they were reading. For there on the screen was a newspaper article from the previous year…

**_Child found burnt to death in oven_ **

Stingy heard the gaggle of children descending upon them before he saw them. Pixel was waving a piece of paper as he ran.

“Stingy, get away from him!” Stephanie called, as soon as she was close enough to be heard.

Stingy ignored her request, contrarily tightening his grip on Salad Fingers’ arm to the point where it was punishing. Salad Fingers didn’t mind, the pain giving his head a pleasant fuzziness.

“Stingy, please he’s EVIL!” Ziggy yelled.

“NO,” Stingy asserted. They had no proof, and he knew Salad Fingers was not evil. Why else would he take the time to walk Stingy home?

“No look,” Pixel said, showing Stingy the paper he was holding. It was a printed newspaper article. “Salad Fingers is not who we thought, he killed a child!”  
Stingy dropped Salad Fingers’ arm in shock. He skimmed the article and there, in the second paragraph, it did indeed say the burnt body of a child had been recovered from the oven in Salad Fingers’ house.

Stingy shook, unable to believe he had been so wrong. He started to back away, looking up at Salad Fingers as he blinked in that eerily calm way of his. Stingy had found it refreshing, even charming, but now in this new light it gave him shivers down his spine.

“How could you?!” Stingy cried, and then he took off running as fast as his injured knee would let him. He was grateful they were almost at his house, because his vision was clouded by tears from the pain in his knee, and worse betrayal.

Salad Fingers didn’t know what to do. He reached out for Stingy, but he was already gone.

The children, having accomplished their task of warning Stingy of the dangers, also fled from the alleged child murderer.

It wasn’t fair, Salad Fingers thought. He was never convicted of murder. When the body was found, they also found him unconscious in the freezer, having passed out from blood loss. They couldn’t pin anything on him because it was all just circumstantial evidence. He never meant to hurt anyone. But now he had hurt the heart of his new friend.

Salad Fingers didn’t want to have to leave this new town. He had to make things right.

**Part eight**

It was the next day and Salad Fingers didn’t want to leave his bed. He knew he had to make it right between him and his new friend, but he didn’t know how.

When he finally emerged from his room, he found Robbie Rotten and Sportacus sharing an egg white omelette at the kitchen counter. They both looked so happy.

“Ah-ha!” Salad Fingers exclaimed aloud. “I have an idea!”

It wasn’t hard to find Stephanie’s house, because she lived with the Mayor and Salad Fingers had been there before for the party. Like last time, instead of knocking, he scraped his salad fingers down the length of the door. He knew he was sad, because it didn’t give him the satisfaction it usually did.

After a long while, for it was still fairly early and it was the weekend, the Mayor opened the door.

“Oh hello,” he bumbled. “Are you here to see Stephanie?”

“Y-yes,” Salad Fingers replied. “I-I would like to make a cake, but I don’t know how.”

“Stephanie makes wonderful cakes!” The Mayor exclaimed. He seemed so proud of his niece. He turned to the stairs and called for Stephanie. “She’ll be down in a moment, why don’t you wait in the kitchen?”

Salad Fingers went as he was directed, and was gently caressing the chrome counters when Stephanie hesitantly entered the room.

“My Uncle says you want to make a cake?” she ventured. Stephanie had always been brave, but she felt her insides turn to jelly when Salad Fingers slowly turned and smiled at her.

“Yes,” he said. “I-I don’t want my new friends to be af-afraid. I-I wanted to please them with a cake.”

Stephanie nodded. She had spoken to her uncle about the concerns her friends had about Salad Fingers last night, and he had assured her that if Salad Fingers was here and not in jail then he can’t be as evil as they thought. She knew her uncle put too much faith in the law, but it seemed he was right. Salad Fingers was trying to be nice, so she would try too.

Mind made up, Stephanie found her trusty cookbook and opened it to her favourite cake recipe.

“Ok!” She said, once more her upbeat happy self. “First we gotta find you an apron!”

With Stephanie’s instruction, the cake mix was easily whipped up and put into a tray. As she pushed the tray into the oven, Salad Fingers felt concerned it wouldn’t cook properly. A strange chill washed over him at the thought, making sweat bead up on his forehead.

“Mm-maybe you should put it in a little further…” he suggested, his voice trembling.

“Nope!” Stephanie said, kicking the door shut and jumping back up.

As soon as she was away from the oven, Salad Fingers wiped the sweat from his brow and smiled.

Everyone in Lazy Town had been summoned to the town centre where the Mayor often gave speeches on the podium. There was a table laid out with dishes and spoons, and there in the centre was a massive cake.

Salad Fingers waited nervously for Stingy to turn up. The town square was getting more and more crowded, but thus far there was no sign. Soon all of the cake was eaten, and the children had apologised, but Salad Fingers still felt empty without Stingy there.

He decided that if Stingy wouldn’t come to him, he would have to go to Stingy. He made the trek over to Stingy’s house, stomach fluttering from all the butterflies he had ingested that day. In fact, he snacked on one along the way to try to calm his nerves, tongue shooting out like a frog to capture it mid-flight.

All too soon, he was ringing Stingy’s doorbell. The door swung open, revealing the boy himself.

“What are you doing at MY house?” he questioned, though his voice was rough from a night of crying.

“I-I threw a party, but you never came,” Salad Fingers said.

“Well it wasn’t a party for ME.”  
“Bu-but I made a cake for everyone,” Salad Fingers lamented.

“As if _I_ would share a cake,” Stingy pouted.

“I-I thought you’d say that,” Salad Fingers replied, bringing out another cake from behind his back. “Wh-which is why I made this one just for you.”  
Stingy’s eyes widened in surprise, his mouth dropping open and his limbs shaking violently in excitement. Salad Fingers was right, a cake just for him was the perfect apology.

Stingy snatched the cake from Salad Fingers and immediately smashed his face into the frosting.

“Om-nom-nom-nom.”  
Salad Fingers smiled at a job well done. When Stingy finally resurfaced, he had a glob of icing on his cheek. Salad Fingers reached out his salad fingers and gently brushed it away.

“I caress it, because I possess it,” he whispered.

Stingy nodded, mouth agape once more. He held Salad Fingers’ hand to his face with his own.

“Mine,” he agreed.

**THE END**


	2. Chapter 2

A big thank you to @breadbrod.art (https://www.instagram.com/breadbrod.art/) for this beautiful fanart after we gave her a disturbing live reading <3 Go show her some love please!


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